


luminous beings are we

by crossingwinter



Series: Star Wars Drabbles & Ficlets [8]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-04 03:22:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14011092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossingwinter/pseuds/crossingwinter
Summary: A collection of short fics originally posted to Tumblr. Ratings, pairings, and 'verses will vary, and will be given in the notes at the beginning of each chapter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> prompted by [@cuquas](http://cuquas.tumblr.com)
> 
> rating: g  
> tags: canon divergence

“i’m not wearing that.  i can’t.”

leia freezes and glances over her shoulder.  rey’s eyes are wide, frightened, pleading.  

“and why not? what else are you proposing wearing? your desert wear?” she tries to keep her tone gentle.  rey doesn’t know.  she doesn’t know at all, just how far these silks have traveled to be here–lost and then found again.  just like ben.

“it’s too fine,” rey says, blinking furiously, her eyes too bright.  “i’m…they’re…”

“come here,” leia says gently, holding out a hand and rey takes it, letting her pull her closer to the silks in the chest.  “these belonged to my mother,” she says.  “they were kept for me, and then taken from me, and then–by sheer  _luck_  found their way back to me.  they are not too fine for you.”

she takes rey’s hand and brushes it along the silk.  rey stiffens and she looks sharply at leia, her brow furrowing.  “i saw…” she begins, her voice trailing away.

“yes?”

but rey doesn’t continue.  she turns back to the silks and continues running her fingers over them.  now that she’s started touching them, she doesn’t seem to want to stop.

“i dreamed of having a daughter wear them one day,” leia says gently.  “i’m too old to have a daughter, so i hope you’ll indulge an old woman’s whims.”

“she had a beautiful smile,” rey whispers and leia’s heart stops.  she remembers that smile too, somehow, though padme amidala had died giving birth to her.  she has memories of it, through the force in all likelihood.  

“she did.”  the words are thick in leia’s throat.  “you do too.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompted by [@xxblossom101xx](http://xxblossom101xx.tumblr.com)
> 
> rating: g  
> tags: canon divergent

“you look tired,” his mother tells him, and it’s like he’s eight all over again.  

_did you sleep this time, sweetheart?_

_no._ and a cup of caf poured for him because he’ll need to be at least somewhat awake for his lessons.

she is watching him closely, and there are more wrinkles and lines to her face, but her eyes are the same eyes they had been when he’d been a boy.

ben swallows and looks around.  he sees dameron bent over a map with finn, and he sees connix at the comm station.  rey, he knows, is on the bridge, fiddling with controls of a ship that is more complicated than any she’s touched before.  he can practically see the childlike joy on her face and chances a smile when he turns back to his mother.  

years fade away and grow again.

his finger on a trigger, not quite able to push it.  wondering why she doesn’t hate him after everything he’s been, everything he’s done.   _hate and forgiveness are different things,_ his mother had told him.   _i don’t hate you…and i don’t forgive you._ the honesty had been brutal.  the honesty had been what he’d needed.

“i’ve never slept much,” he tells her quietly, and she nods.  she pours him a cup of caf and hands it to him with a knowing expression and the taste of the drink reminds him of home.


	3. childhood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for finnroseweek

they don’t talk about childhood. 

whispered hopes for the future, what they want to see the galaxy become, how they want to go about doing it–eyes up, gaze out, one foot in front of the other.  always the future, never the past.

sometimes, finn will catch her tugging on her medallion in moments of quiet.  she doesn’t talk about paige. she keeps her grief inside her, the last vestige of home and family wrapped up in her hand, in her heart, protected from the vast bleakness of space.  

they haven’t talked about the kiss.  finn hasn’t known what to say.  she saved his life. she confused him.  she loves him?  when had that happened.  they had barely known each other a day.  how can she know she loves him?

when he does get the courage up to ask her–quietly, because it’s scary, asking someone if they’re sure, how they know–she only smiles at him.  “because you remind me that if i’m true to myself, then i won’t have failed.  because you make me feel strong,” she says to him and she leans forward and a moment later there are her lips against his again, nudging and warm and soft.  then, more quietly, “because you make me feel safe.  i can’t remember when i last felt safe.”

he frowns.  her hand is not wrapped around her medallion.  paige’s ghost isn’t sitting with them.  so he reaches a hand up and runs his fingers along the edge of the cool hard metal.  it feels like he’s reaching out and touching her heart, a gesture more intimate than the kiss.  _this is all she’s come from, all she has left,_ he thinks.  _her childhood and her family–and what do i have?_

he doesn’t remember being a child–just his brigade.  he doesn’t remember family.  he doesn’t remember what it’s like to feel safe.  _i saved you.  dummy._

he leans forward and kisses her and whispers, “you make me feel safe too.”


End file.
